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By HOB BAYNE Baepanannoek Newt Staff Writer
For the past three months all anyone’s ever talked about around here is Sampson,” complains the man in the red flannel shirt who sits at a card table with some of the other evening regulars. “I’m sick and tired of hearing about Ralph Sampson.”
The man’s name is Runt and he says he doesn’t mind if his name appears in print that way. “Runt’s what they call me,” he announces with a flourish, “and so I take it as my proper name...proper nickname, that is. We all have nicknames. That guy there is Chicken Welch.”
Runt points to the man across from him who, doffing a hunter’s cap, smiles in acknowledgement. “Chicken Welsh is what they call me,” he affirms proudly. “Everyone in Flint Hill knows me by that name.”
The place of this friendly gathering isn’t some smoky bar. It’s the back of Settle’s General Store in Flint Hill where some of the local clientele have gotten together to pass the time and shoot some bull. Participating in the session are the Settles themselves: Mr. and Mrs. Richard Settle and -two of their three children, Tammy and Bubby, both grown and married.
Mrs. Settle, a pretty, petite brown-haired woman, has helped in the store and pumped gas out front since 1972 when the Settles bought the store from Emory Russell. “Ever since we opened we’ve had a localcontingent that meets here almost every night,” she says now. “They discuss all the really important things like sports, hunting, and fishing. There were some real wild arguments in here during football season when the Redskins were winning. You see, some of the boys are Dallas fans.”
And just who are ‘the Boys’? Well in alphabetical order, they are: Junior Poley Atkins, Garfield Bourke,
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